Make Me the Moon: Coming Out of the Darkness of Abuse

By Stacey L. White

Do you feel stuck? Feeling like you're on an emotional roller coaster, not knowing how to escape? Are you longing for freedom from the confusion, chaos, and troubling thoughts that can be a result from past abuse? Make Me the Moon will help you find clarity and insight into the emotional baggage and damage that can be caused by sexual abuse. You are encouraged to see past the hurt and pain that has been gripping your soul and to see yourself as you were created to be: loved, free, and blessed. Make Me the Moon will challenge you to begin a journey of healing that confronts lies that have been internally accepted and believed. Lies that tell you you aren't good enough, you don't matter, and you will never feel loved.

More than a book, Make Me the Moon is a revealing account of Stacey's journey in finding healing and acceptance through the unconditional love offered by God. Freedom from hurt and pain, confusion, and chaos is possible! The journey to healing begins through the power of God's love. Are you ready to begin your journey?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098075569

Book preview

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Make Me the Moon

Coming Out of the Darkness of Abuse

Stacey L. White

Copyright © 2021 by Stacey L. White

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Changed Forever

What Mind Are You Thinking With?

The Issues at Hand

Usable

Who Are You Really?

Untapped Power

Better, Not Bitter

The Power of Love

Healing and Whole

Introduction

If you have been abused, my prayer is that God would use this book to restore your sense of self-worth and to change the way you see yourself. This will directly affect how you see and interact with others. For you to know that what the enemy meant to destroy you with, God will use to show His healing, loving, and restoring power. It is not an easy path to take, but it is worth it. Just as God has gently led me down that path of healing, I know He is able to lead you as well. If you will let Him, He will take you from victim to survivor, from darkness to light.

1

Changed Forever

I was five years old when my mother married the man that would have an impact on my life forever. I don’t remember much about my fifth year of life. I don’t remember Christmas. I don’t remember my birthday. I don’t really remember many happy times. I do remember fear, shame, pain, confusion, neglect, and being physically and sexually abused.

I remember living with my grandmother one day and then living with my mother, this man, and his two daughters the next. I didn’t even go to the wedding. It was an abrupt change and a confusing time. I wasn’t sure how I would fit in. I had never met any of them, and now we were a family. I don’t remember much interaction with my mom before that, and I don’t remember actually being with her much before I moved in with them. I went from a safe, secure environment with my grandmother to one that left me changed forever.

I was glad to be with my mom, but I wasn’t so sure how I felt about this man. I didn’t know my biological father, but like every child, there was an innate longing for a male presence. Without even understanding it, I was longing for the love and security from a dad. It’s a natural desire for every child to feel accepted and wanted in a way that only a father can bring. On top of that, I now had two stepsisters. They were both older than me, and it was the typical stepsister relationship. One was nice, and one was mean. The funny thing is I don’t remember having much interaction with them. I have very little memory of them at all, and the ones I do aren’t really worth remembering.

Up to that point in my life, my mother didn’t have much of a presence. I can remember her being there for the big things. My birthday, Christmas, Thanksgiving. The major ones. I don’t remember her being there for the mundane things in my life. Tucking me in. Making me breakfast. Hugging me good night. There are times I remember being with her, and she would leave me with a sitter or whoever was available so she could go out. I didn’t really know her, but she was my mom. Who didn’t love or want to be with their mother? Just as it is natural to want the love and protection from a father, it is just as natural to want the love and nurturing from a mother. However, I would learn throughout my life that it would be something she was not capable of giving. I often felt like a nuisance, like I was in the way. I remember feeling like I was an outsider just waiting to be invited to be a part of what was going on. I wanted to be wanted.

Now I am living with them, and I didn’t really understand what was going on. I went from living with my grandmother and a quiet home with love and security to a house filled with anger and harsh, loud words. I had no idea what was happening or was about to happen.

I don’t remember how the abuse started or how it was discovered. I don’t necessarily know if I need to. I just know that it happened. I would also come to find out that I wasn’t the only one he was abusing. No one in the house was safe from his abuse. It was never discussed. Like most homes of abuse, it just was.

I often wondered how the abuse was discovered. My mom later told me that she had taken me to the doctor, and he is the one who discovered that abuse was taking place. My mother knew about the physical abuse but not the sexual abuse.

I have no memory of what happened next. The last memory I have of leaving that house was me screaming for my mother as I was being taken away by child services. I also wasn’t there when he was arrested. I was immediately taken from the home and placed in foster care, and that was abuse in a whole other way.

I don’t remember how long I was in foster care. The only interaction I had with an adult was when I was told to eat and go to bed. I was scared. I felt alone, and I missed my mom. I can remember hearing her favorite country song on the radio and crying because I missed her so badly.

There were several other children there and not a lot of adult supervision. It wasn’t a caring or nurturing environment. I was treated like an inconvenience and went from one abusive house to another. It added to my confusion.

I remember the days I had visitations with my mother. I was so thrilled to be seeing her. I can remember running and jumping in her arms and clinging to her. She hugged me so tight, and I felt loved and safe. We would spend an hour or two together, and then it was time to leave. Those were the first memories I have of the pain of heartbreak. I was heartbroken every time I had to leave my mom. Those were bittersweet days.

When his trial began, the lawyers wanted me to testify. There weren’t court-appointed child advocates back in the seventies—at least I didn’t have one. I can remember being in an office alone with the lawyers, feeling like I had done something wrong. The small office had wooden floors, file cabinets overflowing with files and loose papers; and I was sitting in a chair, the old wooden chairs with the slatted backs that swiveled. It felt